


a plague on both your houses

by kiittenteeth



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Child Death, Gen, Ghosts, only mentioned but still a reoccurring topic, there are more characters mentioned but the focus is mapleshade and oakstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26805778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiittenteeth/pseuds/kiittenteeth
Summary: On the night Pinekit was born, Oakstar saw the dead.
Relationships: Oakstar/Sweetbriar (Warriors)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	a plague on both your houses

On the night Pinekit was born, Oakstar saw the dead.

It had been a tumultuous era in ThunderClan’s history. Ever since Mapleshade - damn the witch - had been discovered dead in the barn after her rampage, Oakstar’s leadership had not known peace. ThunderClan was nearly torn in two over the events that had unfolded; there had been cats that had supported Oakstar, lifted their chin and dubbed his decree fair and just, and there were others, like Doefeather, who had rallied up afterwards, called him out for what they believed wasn’t fair. 

_It isn’t right, what you’ve done_ , Mousefoot had said, tucked away by the elders’ den while Rabbitfur slept. He had turned his muzzle, graying with age, away from Oakstar to stare out across the tree line. _Punish the molly for all I care, but those three were just kits whose only crime was to be born against their will._ Oakstar had flattened his ears, leaving shortly after that, and had stopped visiting since.

It hadn’t just been the elders, or half of ThunderClan’s ranks; days after the bodies were discovered, an emergency meeting was called. A RiverClan molly - Reedshine, if Oakstar remembered correctly - and an apprentice had reported everything, and Darkstar was enraged over the death of one of her warriors and the attack of an apprentice. There had been accusations and threats thrown around that night, only for Oakstar to go storming back home, as stubborn as ever. The next emergency meeting, Oakstar had sent Doefeather and his deputy at the time, Beetail, to speak on his behalf. The molly who wouldn’t let Oakstar live his sin down, and the deputy who had stood by and supported him without questioning.

 _They want you to resign,_ Doefeather had called out after arriving to camp after the meeting with Beetail in tow. _Darkstar is threatening war until you’re put out of position._

 _What was I supposed to do?_ Oakstar had snapped, defensive as ever. _Mapleshade was a traitor._

 _But the kits were just kits_ , Doefeather had countered, _you could’ve just exiled Mapleshade. You let three kittens die and sparked a rampage in their footsteps._

Oakstar had demoted Beetail after that, much to the deputy’s chagrin, and appointed Doefeather in his stead, an appeal to Darkstar. _I’ve appointed the molly spearheading a campaign against me as my deputy_ , Oakstar had huffed one day to the RiverClan leader, _are you satisfied?_

 _Did you do it because you felt bad for your actions,_ Darkstar had countered, _or because you wanted me off your back?_ Oakstar had gone silent after that. 

Doefeather challenged him every step of the way as his deputy, but she at least had the decency to not call him ‘kit-killer’, even though he could practically see it on the tip of her tongue when they spoke.

There were other cats, too, who didn’t dare confess they didn’t have faith in Oakstar, but he could still see it. Other cats, like Sweetbriar, who, after Frecklewish’s death, had been unable to look her mate in the eyes again. Their relationship had been strained after the death of their first-born child, and it had only worn itself thinner when Frecklewish was dragged back to camp, screaming in agony with Mapleshade’s name on her tongue. In a desperate effort to reconcile in their twilight years, Oakstar and Sweetbriar had tried for another litter, and tonight the fruit of their efforts had been born.

There had been no celebration, though. Sweetbriar had survived, miraculously despite her age, and had given birth to a strong kitten fit for future leadership, but Pinekit’s birth had not been celebrated in the same way that the birth of Birchkit and Frecklekit had. There was no sniffling nose bump, Oakstar did not press his forehead to Sweetbriar’s and murmur about how beautiful their kittens were, Sweetbriar did not bury her muzzle in the ruff of fur around Oakstar’s neck and keep him close. She had shown him Pinekit, announced what she had wanted to name him, and when Oakstar whispered that he looked strong and healthy, Sweetbriar only nodded and turned away from her mate. She had curled around her kitten, ignoring Oakstar’s attempt at a playful tease when he pathetically joked that if she curled around him any tighter she’d smother him, and Oakstar left after that. He had not spent the night with her this time, their pelts brushing as they encircled their fragile new life, but rather retreated to the solace of his den, alone and shut off from the world. 

“He’s a strong kit.”

Oakstar tensed in his nest. That was a voice he hadn’t heard in moons. He lifted his head from his paws, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of his den, and with a ghostly sheen she stood there, ragged and downcast as the day he threw her out.

“You’re dead,” he hissed. “You’re dead.”

“Hopefully he doesn’t get your observation skills,” the dead molly snorted, bantering as casually as she would with a Clanmate. 

“Demon,” Oakstar growled, shifting to a sitting up position. He could feel the fur along the back of his neck rise with aggression. “Get out of my den.”

“My name’s Mapleshade, still,” said the specter. “Don’t know why you’d call me a demon.” 

“ _Get out!_ ” Oakstar spat, bristling. Mapleshade recoiled at the snarl, her own tortoiseshell pelt raising, the hairs outlined by the pale moonlight filtering through. 

“I’d like to talk, Oakstar,” Mapleshade began, but Oakstar only snapped his jaws in turn.

“I said out! You’ve lost your privilege to speak to me the day you consorted with a RiverClan cat.”

“You lost your privilege to order me around the day you sent my kits to their death.”

“I have no qualms with what happened to you,” Oakstar huffed back. “There’s no reason for you to haunt me for guilt I do not have. You deserved everything that happened to you.”

“My kits deserved to die?” Mapleshade inquired with an innocent tilt of her head to the side. Oakstar’s mouth went dry. “You better watch what you say,” Mapleshade continued on, settling down onto her belly and tucking her paws beneath her chest. “You’ll have a mutiny on your paws if they heard you speak like that.” 

“No one has sympathy for a murderer,” Oakstar said.

“That should make you worried,” Mapleshade purred back, confident as ever.

“What do you _want_?”

“I told you,” Mapleshade answered with an annoyed scoff, “I’m here to talk.” 

“Fine,” Oakstar grunted through gritted teeth. “Speak about what?”

Mapleshade said nothing at first, simply sat there, her gaze focused intently on Oakstar. A smug smile had curled on her countenance as she watched him, and Oakstar’s pelt began to itch with unease. The silence stretched on between the two of them, achingly, painfully quiet, and just when Oakstar was about to start squirming like an uneasy kitten, just when he was about to question the sense of this situation, Mapleshade opened her mouth.

“Your leaf didn’t fall far from the branch, did it?” 

Oakstar blinked, mouthing words at her before he realized no sound was coming out. Clearing his throat, he grunted, “Pardon?” 

“You. Your leaf. Well, your leadership. Been a messy one, hasn’t it?” Mapleshade’s voice lilted with a purr, as if satisfied with the way Oakstar’s life had turned to disaster the second Mapleshade had turned her back on ThunderClan. Oakstar’s ears flattened against his broad head, a snarl rising at the back of his throat again.

“Haven’t you tormented me enough? You’ve killed my medicine cat, you’ve killed my daughter, what more could you possibly want?” 

“I guess it runs in your family, huh,” Mapleshade carried on despite Oakstar’s interruption, ignoring the tom’s words wholly. “A leadership filled with disaster. Same thing happened to your grandfather, didn’t it?”

“We do not speak of Cloudstar,” Oakstar growled, low and rumbling.

“ _Y_ _ou_ do not speak of Cloudstar,” Mapleshade retorted. “We dead have no rules.” 

The tense silence fell upon them again, stifling Oakstar like a boulder crushing his ribcage; Mapleshade, however, seemed less than perturbed, simply untucking her paw from underneath her thick-furred chest and trailing it across the ground below, like a daydreaming apprentice during a particularly boring lesson. 

“Do you think the boy will follow your footsteps? Would you like him to be the heir to your title?” Mapleshade inquired, her eyes never leaving the invisible patterns she traced against Oakstar’s den floor. Oakstar’s lip curled until his teeth were bared at Mapleshade, and his hackles lifted as another threatening hiss passed through his fangs.

“I swear if you touch a single hair on his pelt, I’ll -,”

“You’ll what? Kill me?” Mapleshade cut him off with a sneer, her teeth baring back at Oakstar. Rising to her full height, Mapleshade puffed out her pelt, looming over Oakstar with a threatening display of her bared fangs as Oakstar crouched below, cowering until his belly fur pressed flat against the bottom of his nest. She was dead, she couldn’t hurt him, she was dead.

But she was also the molly who killed three cats in the span of a few days.

“Don’t you worry, Oakstar,” Mapleshade crooned, mockingly sweet, “I won’t touch your little bundle of joy.”

“You won’t?” 

“Oh no, not ever. I’d never kill a kitten,” Mapleshade soothed. “In fact, I’ll do you one better, I’ll make sure the little tiger grows big and strong enough to be ThunderClan’s leader. Wouldn’t you like that, Oakstar? A line of descendents, all running a Clan.” Her smile was inviting, the warm expression of a mother encouraging her kit to try something new, something foreign. 

“In fact, I’ll make sure he follows exactly in your pawsteps.” That smile vanished within heartbeats. “His leadership will be as disastrous as yours, and your grandfather’s, even as volatile as your ancient ancestor’s leadership was when the Clans first started.”

“Thunder the Brave did not have a leadership like mine.”

“Did I say Thunder the Brave?” Mapleshade snapped, her lip curling. “Before you try to inflate your ego any further, I’ll narrow it down for you since you have to have someone hold your paw and explain everything to you like you’re a child. Shadow the Selfless, River the Charming, Wind the Energetic, even Gray Wing the Wise did not have decisions as controversial as yours. Who does that leave, Oakstar? Can you use that head of yours? Is that thick head of yours capable of thoughts?”

Oakstar bushed out his tail, another hiss yanking from the back of his throat as Mapleshade’s voice grew more and more aggressive; the molly hovered over Oakstar, poised like a snake about to strike, her fangs drawn and at the ready. 

“ _Well?_ ” She prompted with a hiss. 

“Sky the First - Sky the Volatile,” Oakstar breathed out a name rarely spoken now, horror dawning on him. 

“Sky the Forgotten now,” Mapleshade said. 

“How do you _know_ this?” 

“Why should I tell?” Mapleshade purred now, her tail lifting high into the air as she held herself, proud at her display of knowledge. “A good riddle-maker never reveals their answer right away, do they?” The apparition let her shoulders slacken, shifting on her paws so that she could stroll around Oakstar, circling him like an eagle circling a trapped rabbit. “You’ll be known as Oakstar the Cursed one day. Appledusk’s bloodline is not the only bloodline I’ll haunt. I’ll make sure your little rats achieve their greatness, and I’ll make sure it all comes crashing down. I will make sure their reigns are as riddled with scandal and controversy as yours was. Your bloodline will be shamed for generations.”

Mapleshade leaned forward, her muzzle thrust into Oakstar’s view as she brought her jaws closer to his face. “And I will make sure you are around to see each and every disaster.” 

“No one can live that long,” Oakstar muttered.

“Oh, not live, dear. There’s a place for cats like us,” Mapleshade informed smugly. 

“StarClan?” Oakstar pleaded.

“No, silly,” Mapleshade rumbled. “Welcome to the forest.”

Mapleshade pulled away from Oakstar and, with a whisk of her tail, left the den. 

When Oakstar died, he did not join StarClan. He wandered the same woods as he did when he was alive, watching as Doefeather took the title of ThunderClan’s leader. He watched as her reign passed, replaced by his youngest son, and he cringed when Pinestar took a molly young enough to be his granddaughter as his mate. He winced when Pinestar left his Clan behind, a son in his wake.

Oakstar watched in horror, mouth agape, as Tigerstar the First ravaged the forest, leading a river of blood lapping at his paws in his wake. He watched, pitying, as Tigerstar the First soaked the grass below with his own blood after Scourge’s killing blow. 

He watched, scornful and with distaste, as Tigerstar the Second sparked up a romance with a ThunderClan molly despite his birth home of ShadowClan; he scowled with disgust as Tigerstar the Second fled his own home to chase after this ThunderClan girl and drag her back to his home. 

He watched, alarmed and confused, as Bramblestar was kicked out of his body, and something else invaded it. He hung his head in shame when the thing opened its mouth for its violent decrees.


End file.
